


Calming if you look at it right

by Agf



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Happy first day of Spooky Season!!!, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Psychological Horror, Reality Bending, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agf/pseuds/Agf
Summary: There's no reason to panic. None at all. He's woken up in bed beside his boyfriend- partner- ghoulfriend, like always. It's a nice day. Shane is wearing the blue shirt. Like always.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 29
Kudos: 81





	Calming if you look at it right

**Author's Note:**

> Happy spooky season one and all <3
> 
> For the True Experience(TM) I recommend you listen to Hotel California on repeat while you read, but you do you. 
> 
> Warnings in the end notes! If weird psychological things upset you, please check there before reading further.

Ryan first understands that something is wrong when he wakes up and Shane says, "Beautiful day out there today. We should go hiking." 

It is a beautiful day. The perfect weather for hiking - bright, warm, not too hot. Ryan knows that if he sticks his hand out of the window he'll find that the breeze is light and cooling. 

He knows this because it's what he did yesterday. And the day before that. And-- wait, what was he thinking about? 

"You always want to go hiking," he complains into Shane's shoulder, and it's not a complaint at all, they both know that. Shane laughs and runs his fingers over his hair. 

"Got to get the LA smoke out of your lungs," he says. "Clear your head."

Distantly, Ryan's aware of a faint alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind, but then Shane's guiding his face up for a kiss, soft and sweet, and everything goes quiet again. 

"I'll make us coffee," he says. "Get dressed." 

Ryan hums in the back of his throat and watches Shane get up and stretch. Arms up above his head first, then behind his back to pop his shoulders. He takes five steps to reach the drawers, pulls out a blue shirt, pulls it on. Twelve steps to leave the room. 

The door clicks shut behind him. Ryan can feel himself starting to panic. 

There's no reason for the panic. None at all. He's woken up in bed beside his boyfriend- partner- _ghoulfriend_ , like always. It's a nice day. Shane is wearing the blue shirt. Like always. 

Ryan stands up unsteadily and crosses the room in five quick strides. He yanks the drawer open and flicks through it. Green, red, blue, blue, green, orange, blue. Shane just owns a lot of blue shirts. That's all. 

The door swings open behind him and Ryan startles like he's been caught doing something terrible. In the doorway, Shane frowns at him. "Planning to steal my clothes? You'll stretch out the shoulders," he says. 

Ryan fights against his beating heart, against the weird urge to run. It’s stupid to be afraid, this is _Shane._ Shane has never- _would_ never, give Ryan a reason to be afraid of him. 

"Good point," he says. He closes the drawer and turns to the wardrobe instead. Shane watches as he pages through familiar items - jerseys, shirts, fancier ones with buttons. Ryan pulls out his purple Lakers jersey, the Kobe one, and Shane's face relaxes into a smile again. 

For some reason, as soon as Ryan notices that, he feels his hands start to sweat. He shoves the jersey back into the wardrobe and pulls out a white shirt at random instead. 

He sees that Shane is frowning again, though he stops when Ryan looks over. 

"I like that one," Shane says with a smile. He leaves the door open as he heads back to the kitchen. Ryan can hear the sound of him making coffee - the running water, the clink of their mugs. 

It's a perfectly normal morning, isn't it? It is. It is. It is it is 

*****

Shane makes them breakfast. It’s nothing fancy, just toast. Ryan eats his while flipping through his phone. He has a message from his Mom, and an email about a sneaker drop. He doesn’t read either of them. 

Shane goes to take a shower, and by the time he’s on his second mug of coffee Ryan feels much better. Their fridge is full - stocked half with the protein shakes and leftovers Ryan likes, and half with the fruit Shane grazes on like a weird gazelle. 

Shane reappears fully dressed, hair a little damp, and he kisses Ryan sweet and slow against the counter. 

Ryan’s heart beats like a trapped bird in his chest. 

He wishes it wouldn’t. He wishes it would chill out a little, so he could enjoy the novelty of this - of Shane’s mouth, bright with the taste of minty toothpaste, his warm palm on Ryan’s cheek. His shower gel smells like cedar. He kisses Ryan like he’s done it a thousand times. 

He must have. This is their house. He must have. There’s no novelty here. 

“Ready to go?” Shane asks when he pulls away, then wiggles his eyebrows. “Or did I distract you from our hiking plan?”

“Shut up,” Ryan laughs, relieved. This feels more like normality. He pushes Shane in the direction of the shoe rack they apparently own. “Get your boots on.” 

*****

It’s Fall. Of course it is - that’s Ryan’s favourite season. 

The air is crisp and the foliage around them has started to change colour - fading from bright greens into more muted yellows and reds. Ryan thinks it suits Shane, who reaches for one of the low, sloping branches near their car with something like reverence in his eyes.

When he catches Ryan watching he doesn’t shut it down, instead he turns the leaf so Ryan can better see all the colours. 

They leave the car in the parking lot and shrug on backpacks to start the hiking trail, heading for the sharpest incline by unspoken agreement. 

The path curves and slopes around the hill, ducking out of sight. Soon enough they’re beyond the distance where the noise of the city carries, and the only sound is the sound of their footsteps, their quiet words to one another, and the rustle of the tree branches. 

“It’ll be Halloween soon,” Shane says. “We should get candy in, in case kids come trick-or-treating.” 

Ryan’s never lived anywhere where kids could do that - only ever crappy apartments or the odd room in a college house. The thought fills him with an indescribable _glee_. “We should,” he says. “We should dress up!” 

Shane laughs softly. “If you like,” he agrees, easy as that. 

They make it to the top of their trail. It has taken them all afternoon, and no time at all. Shane isn’t even sweating. Ryan’s skin is warm from the sun, but he isn’t breathing hard. They didn’t bring any water - what’s in their bags? - but it doesn’t matter, he isn’t thirsty. 

“I’m so glad we decided to move closer to all this,” Shane says, waving a hand over the view. “It was worth all that searching. I think the real estate agent wanted to throttle us by the end. Do you remember?” 

Ryan does. He remembers trudging through house after house, bickering over the placement of the kitchen, over the lack of character, over the _too much_ -ness of the character. He remembers finding their one, finally, and holding Shane’s hand in the doorway of the kitchen, and thinking ‘this is it for me’. 

No- that last part was earlier. Different. Ryan remembers standing in his old, shared kitchen, holding Shane’s hand. He remembers Steven there - why would Steven be there? - and the papers on the table. He remembers the smudge of ink on Shane’s thumb from the biro, and that feeling in his chest, the certainty. 

He can’t remember any of the other houses anymore. 

“Why didn’t we like the others?” he asks, reaching for Shane’s hand. Shane lets him take it, obviously, because Shane always lets him hold his hand. Shane doesn’t care who’s watching. Shane always lets him hold his hand. Shane lets him take it. It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching. 

Ryan glances around - they’re alone. 

“They were all too far from this,” Shane says. He waves his free hand over the view again. He looks happy. The sun turns his hair golden where the flyaways catch the light. He looks more relaxed here than almost anywhere else in the world, more relaxed than Ryan ever gets to see him. This is Shane’s happy place, his nirvana. 

Below them, the trees sway in the breeze, their leaves deep reds and golden oranges. A few drift loose in the wind, floating a few metres to fall to the ground. They don’t ever seem to fall on the trail, somehow. 

The air tastes like Fall. Crisp, bright. Shane has his eyes closed, his face turned into the sun. Ryan clutches his hand tighter. He’s worried, suddenly, that Shane might float away from him, carried off in that same breeze. 

He hasn’t heard any birds. 

“Where are all the birds?” Ryan asks. 

Shane opens his eyes slowly. “There’s one there. What is that, a hummingbird?” he asks, ducking down and pointing so Ryan can follow the line of his arm. 

Oh, yeah. He can see it now. 

By unspoken agreement, they begin the descent, still hand-in-hand. They haven’t done this trail before, but Ryan knows exactly where they’re going. 

They round the bend, and come upon a lake. “Is that a merganser?” he asks, without looking. 

“By golly, I think he’s got it,” Shane says in a stupid voice, squinting against the glare from the water at the birds bobbing around on the surface. “There’s a few of them.” 

Ryan can see them, little grey bodies shifting with the tiny ripples on the surface of the water. One of them, the closest one, stares back at them blankly. Ryan watches its feet paddle, the lift and fall of its back with the water. It doesn’t turn away. It watches them in return, never blinking, never distracted. 

“I still don’t like them,” Ryan says, loud enough for his voice to carry. In the distance, a couple of the mergansers take flight, heading over the hills. 

***** 

There are a few other people in the parking lot now, milling around with backpacks and dogs. Not one of them turns around as they pass by, heading back for the car. 

It shouldn’t bother him. It normally wouldn’t. 

It’s just- Ryan doesn’t think he’s seen another person’s face all day. 

He must have. 

He looks around them again, but no. Just the backs of people’s heads, the pulled-down brim of a hat, a door opened at just the right moment to shield them from view. 

Ryan watches for a long, long moment. 

There’s a sick feeling creeping down his spine, settling low in his stomach. Shane is humming something quietly to himself as he packs their stuff back into the trunk, blissful expression still in place. 

Shane likes the privacy. He hasn’t noticed. 

Suddenly, Ryan can’t stand it. The air feels too thick. There are kids playing at a car a few feet from them, chasing each other in circles, and at no point do they _turn around_. He thrusts his bag at Shane and lifts his arm to pinch the soft skin of his forearm viciously, nails first, hard enough to break skin. 

“Ryan!” Shane catches him twisting his fingers into his arm and surges forward to pull his arms apart. “What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. He sounds shaken. Worried. 

Ryan shakes his head. He tries to pull his arms back, but Shane’s holding him tight, like he’s worried that if he lets go, Ryan will just do it again. 

“Ry, what’s wrong?” he asks. He sounds like Shane, like _normal_ Shane. Bizarrely, Ryan feels his eyes prick hot with tears. He refuses to shed them, glaring at a spot on Shane’s shirt rather than look up into his face and risk it. 

“Just checking I’m not dead,” he says. 

“Why would you be dead?” Shane asks - quiet, careful. His brown eyes are so wide and worried. “Will you talk to me? You’ve been weird all day, I’m worried. Ry, why would you be dead?”

This time, when Ryan tugs, he lets go of his arms. Ryan wraps them around his own middle tightly. “I don’t know. I just feel weird. I must have had a weird dream or something. Watched myself get swallowed by a big snake. You know I get nightmares.” 

Shane does know that. Ryan watches him nod. “You’re alright,” Shane says soothingly. “Let’s- Let’s go home, yeah?”

Back in the car, Ryan rubs absently over the red spot on his arm. It still hurts, the thudding pain that means it will probably bruise. Shane doesn’t look at him as he switches the radio on. Shane is driving, because Shane always drives now. Shane drove them here, didn’t he? He must have. How did they get here? Shane switches the radio on and it’s the station he always chooses; something lo fi and calming floods from the speakers. Ryan leans back in his seat and presses his hands to his knees, watches the countryside slip by his window. 

The sun has started to set, right on time. There’s a perfect sunset - a gradient of deep oranges all the way to dusky pinks. It is beautiful. 

“That’s for dreaming, anyway,” Shane says, out of the blue. Ryan turns, and immediately notices that Shane’s fingers are tight on the steering wheel. He’s white-knuckling it, though the roads are weirdly empty for this time of day, and he’s hovering perfectly around the speed limit. 

His jaw is clenched. 

“What?” Ryan asks, a croak. He sits upright. He feels cold, suddenly. 

Shane shakes his head. He wets his lips. He can’t seem to drag his eyes from the road for even a second, though he could. There’s no one around. Ryan wills him to. He doesn’t know why it feels so important, suddenly, that Shane looks at him - really _looks at him_ \- it just _is._

“Shane,” he says. It sounds like a plea. 

With visible effort, Shane glances sideways. He’s gripping the wheel so tightly that the leather creaks under his hands. There’s sweat beading at his temples, just like there wasn’t on their hike. “The test,” he says. “Pinching yourself is for dreaming. I don’t think there’s a test for dead.” 

Just like that, the tension in his shoulders releases. He turns back to the road. His hands relax - he taps three fingers against the wheel to the beat of the music. 

When Ryan can bring himself to finally release the breath he’s holding like a bottled-up scream, Shane looks over again and smiles. 

It almost looks natural.

**Author's Note:**

> Themes of false memories, paranoia, hallucinations, brain fog, not trusting your own eyes/brain etc. If you struggle with unreality-type deals, this one may not be for you <3


End file.
